


there's a shining in the shadows

by lovable_and_lovable



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: 3x23 spoilers, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hiatus fic, greg and larry, personal feelings projected on fictional characters, post-season 3/mid-season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovable_and_lovable/pseuds/lovable_and_lovable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens in Florida does not stay in Florida.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's a shining in the shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Home" by Gabrielle Aplin (as are the titles of dozens of other AO3 fics). Thanks to [weaslayyy's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/weaslayyy/pseuds/weaslayyy) awesome [fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5178908/chapters/11930492) for first putting the idea in my head that Jake has/goes through episodes of depression. Content warning for depression, including thoughts of self-harm and thoughts of self-hatred, and hyperventilation (I tried to convey my lived experience of these while also adjusting it to Jake and his situation).

Jake’s sprawled on his stomach across their bed when the key turns in the lock and Amy comes in. 

“Hi Ames,” he calls, muffled by his pillow, but he doesn’t get up. Jake closes his eyes again and imagines her hanging her coat and purse on their hooks and lining her shoes up neatly against the wall. 

“Hey, babe,” Amy says as she enters their bedroom, and her voice is easy. He turns at the sound of a zipper. Amy’s in a soft white camisole. She’s hung up her jacket and blouse, and she’s pulling off her slacks, but instead of going to the dresser for sweatpants and a T-shirt, she drapes herself over his back, tangling her legs with his and resting her chin over his shoulder.

She knows exactly what kind of day he’s had. 

It shouldn't have upset him—just a case with no leads. But everything's been harder since Florida, and Jake feels like this was just the latest in an endless string of frustrating cases since he got back. Today, he hit a low point, overwhelmed in the evidence lockup and consumed with the urge to punch the metal shelves, to tear his own skin apart. 

He was able to quell the urge by repeating one of his mantras: _It's all okay now. You are safe. The Captain is safe. Amy is here and she's safe. Charles is here and he's safe, Rosa is here and she's safe, Terry is here and he's safe, Gina is here and she's safe. You are here. You are home. Amy loves you so much, she lives with you._

As though summoned, Amy came in after a while. He was sitting at that point and she sat too, her shoulder nestled into his and leaning back against the boxes. “Hey, Jake,” Amy said, so gently. “What's going on?”

“My case. 'M having Bad Thoughts,” Jake said. 

Amy knew what he meant. It was a shorthand they used, and was much easier than telling your partner the clinical names. “Are they really bad right now?”

“They've faded but I still feel like shit.”

Amy took his hand and traced soothing patterns over the back of it. “What do you think would help?”

Jake knew Amy was trying to help him learn to be more self-sufficient with his coping skills. He understood that and tried to remember to do the same for her. Still, when Amy had a bad panic attack, he prompted her. Jake wracked his mental list, but everything felt so static-y and fractured that he could barely focus on just keeping his cool. 

“I can't think of it right now,” he admitted, and hoped Amy would have an idea. 

Luckily for him, Amy was not only smart and nurturing, but calm in this moment, and well-versed in coping mechanisms from the years of therapy she had put in and Jake had not. 

“You said you're upset about your case?” Amy said. 

“Yeah.” 

“Look, I don't know if it's the best idea, but maybe being back here is putting too much pressure on you. You had to take months off work, and that would mess with anyone's game. But really, Jake, you're doing great with your cases. There have been hard ones lately, but no more than is part of the job. Sometimes it's about luck. It doesn't mean you aren't doing a good job,” Amy said.

“I guess,” Jake said. Rationally, he knew Amy was right, but he still didn’t feel like he was doing a good enough job. Amy knew so many things, though, that Jake thought she probably knew he felt that way.

“Also…I bet being here is reminding you of how things were before Florida, and how things have changed, and maybe that's not helping,” Amy said, like she’d been waiting to say it for a while. “Do you think it would help if you took the rest of the day off and went home? I know it's not always good for you to be alone, but at home there are no old or bad memories, and no pressure on you to be a certain way. You can just rest and let yourself be, you know? And I'll be home in a couple hours, anyway. What do you think?”

“That sounds good,” Jake said. No, it wasn't good for him to stay in bed too much, but he hadn’t been sleeping well and his entire being felt tense from exhaustion and stress. And if Amy thought it was an okay idea, Jake figured it probably was.

“And if the Bad Thoughts come back,” Amy said firmly, “look at your list on your phone of things that help, okay? And call me or Dr. Luong if you need to.”

“Okay,” said Jake.

Amy kissed one of his cheeks and ran her thumb over the other. “I love you as much as anyone loves anyone.”

“I love you too. Just as much,” Jake said, leaning into her touch. They stood up and he opened his arms for a hug. Amy responded immediately, and Jake focused on breathing, the scent of her shampoo in his nose, the feel of her hands sweeping over his back. 

Then Amy went back to her desk, and Jake left a few minutes later for Captain Holt’s office. 

“Hey, Captain,” Jake said. He didn’t feel like sitting down, so he braced himself—no, leaned against—one of the chairs in front of the desk. Holt looked up, but Jake found himself at a loss for what to say. 

“Are you all right, Jacob?” Holt said finally.

“What, me? I’m in ship shape. Fit as a fiddle. Happy as a clam,” Jake said, wincing at his high, brittle voice and trying to remember how to shape his face into his carefree smile. 

The Captain looked at him and waited. He rolled a pen just slightly back and forth across his desk, the leather blotter muffling the sound; Jake might not have noticed if the silence hadn’t been so taut. 

“I'm having...Florida-type problems.” Jake had to push the words out; they threatened to slither back down his throat, to drown him. 

Captain Holt nodded, well aware of the seriousness. “What do you need?”

Jake let go of the chair to fiddle with his badge. “Um, Amy and I thought it might help if I went home for the afternoon.”

“By all means. Do whatever you feel is best,” Holt said, in that brusque voice he uses when he’s feeling awkward. 

“Thank you, sir.” Jake turned to go. 

“And Jake. Call if you need to.” The Captain leaned back, hands steepled together, and gave him one of those small fond smiles that always warmed Jake to his bones. 

Jake smiled a little and nodded. 

At home, he did feel calmer. Still low, still feeling lingering self-loathing, but it no longer felt like his veins were going to explode out of his skin. The apartment was so clean and bright, with its natural light and the white sheets on the bed.

Now, Amy is running her fingers up through the hair at the nape of his neck, humming softly. “Do you want to talk?”

“Sure,” says Jake. His face is still all squished but he doesn’t feel like moving it. 

“Okay. How are you feeling?” 

“Better. Tired,” Jake admits.

After this many months together, Jake can practically sense the moment Amy clicks into being-bossy-for-your-own-good mode. “Jake, you need to let yourself rest. You've been running yourself ragged at work, but it won't do any good to your cases if you're too burnt out to function. I know being inactive reminds you of Florida, but that doesn't mean it's bad, not if it's in the right amounts.”

“Okay,” says Jake, closing his eyes. He’s not sure if he knows how to let himself rest properly.

They’re quiet again for a while. “How are you doing?” Jake asks eventually. 

“I’m fine,” Amy says mildly. 

“Does this make you anxious?” Jake asks, before he can lose his nerve. “Like, too badly?”

“No,” Amy says quickly, then considers, fingering the collar of Jake's shirt. “Trying to make you feel better definitely doesn’t. It actually calms me down to focus my energy onto you. I do worry about you, but I’m used to it—not because of anything you do, but just because I’m used to worrying. But I worry about you less now than when you were in Florida, because even though I’m sad you’re feeling like this, at least you’re here and I can be here for you.” 

“Okay,” Jake whispers. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” Amy kisses the crown of his head. “I’m going to go reheat the leftovers for dinner, okay?”

“’Kay,” says Jake, as she clambers off of him and the bed. He doesn’t want to eat, but he knows he’ll feel worse if he doesn’t.

When Amy comes back into their bedroom a few minutes later, Jake’s sitting up on the edge of the bed.

“I know it was hard to get up. Here’s a sticker for you,” Amy says, handing it to him. She's ducked her chin in that sweet, shy way she has.

Jake stares at the sticker, and remembers, for the first time in a long time, when Amy first gave him one; remembers how much she had happily done for him, so many months ago. 

He looks up at Amy, and the look on her face makes him realize that his eyes are full of tears. _Finally_ , Jake thinks, and lets the tension go, and then he’s really crying, hard.

“I’m sorry!” Amy says, alarmed. “Should I not have done that? What is it?” 

“No, don’t be sorry,” Jake gasps out, and he might be hyperventilating, but he doesn’t want Amy to start as well, so he reaches to hold her hand. “It’s just—I missed you so much, and, and—no one understood like you do. I mean, Holt—he understood a lot of what I was going through, but he—he was having such a hard time himself, and wasn’t sure how to help, I think—and I pushed him away because I was trying to be tough in front of him. And now I’m home, and you’re—you’re being so good to me, always, but I just—I feel so bad that I’m like this around you, now that we’re finally together again—I feel like you deserve better. And I’ve been feeling so guilty that you do all this stuff to take care of me, and I was sorta scared you resented me for it--no, no,” he hurries out, when she opens her mouth. “I know that you don’t, I know, it just took me until today to really know it, the way I used to.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Amy says, and she sits next to him, wrapping her arms around his middle and running her hand up and down his arm and chest. She’s quiet for a while, and Jake knows she’s thinking. 

When his breathing has slowed, she says carefully, “I know you might not be in a place right now where you can truly believe this, but no one could be better for me than you. It’s true that I wish you weren’t feeling so sad, for your sake, but don’t worry about me. I’d much rather see you sad than not see you at all, okay? And even though you’re having a hard time right now, and not feeling quite like yourself, you’re still you—still caring and brave and sweet and strong and honest. And I loved you when you were away, and I’d love you if you were in a coma for months—God forbid—and you’d do the same for me. You don’t have to be happy for me to love you, okay? What matters is that you’re alive and you’re here, and you’re trying to take care of yourself. That’s all I can ask for. And I’m happy to help take care of you, okay? There’s nothing you need to hide.”

Well, that doesn’t stop Jake from tearing up, but he does feel more at ease. “Thanks, Amy. Love you,” he murmurs, returning the hug and kissing her forehead.

And Jake’s not sure, but he thinks eating dinner that night is a little easier to stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm [haylestorming](http://haylestorming.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you want to scream about B99 with me and/or send me prompts!
> 
> My heartfelt thanks to [clairiefresh](http://clairiefresh.tumblr.com/) and [elsaclack](http://elsaclack.tumblr.com/) for providing support and feedback, and to elsaclack for her insightful ideas for scene alterations!


End file.
